


you're so sweet; will you be mine?

by jojotxt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, let them rest..., oh my god i cannot believe i did this, someone give pidge a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7374322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojotxt/pseuds/jojotxt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new bakery pops up right across the street from Lance's bakery.<br/>. . .<br/>In which Lance is an idiot, Keith is an asshole, and Pidge is the next Dr. Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're so sweet; will you be mine?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [con todo y tu dulzura; ¿serías para mí?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714602) by [Tiannabeth (TianaEspecial)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TianaEspecial/pseuds/Tiannabeth)



> hoooly fucking shit okay.... lemme just say writing this was a wild ride because at random times i would just be like??? this is stupid why am i writing this??? but i kept on truckin. and here we are.  
> this is probably the longest fic i've ever written im honestly so impressed.  
> anyway, try to count how many memes and pop culture references i've slipped in here. there's a lot.

Lance looked at the sign, eyes wide and mouth agape. He blinked, thinking maybe his vision was going wonky and he should schedule an appointment with the eye doctor because he really is overdue for a visit... but when he opened his eyes, it was still there. He pinched his thigh, hard, hoping to possibly wake up from this _shit show_ of a dream, but to no avail. He closed his eyes, counted to ten.

 

The fucking sign was _still_ there.

 

 _Okay, no time to panic, Lance. Maybe this is just an elaborate prank forged by Pidge and Hunk. Yeah, that sounds about right. Haha, those jokers. They really got me this time. What a pair of kidders._ Because there is _no fucking way_ some jackass decided that it was a good idea to start a bakery business right across the street from Lance’s own.

 

_No fucking way._

\--

 

“Honestly!” Lance threw his hands into the air and landed a pretty nasty blow to the dough on the counter. “What the fuck!” He yelled and hit the dough again as hard as he could. “What kinda _pendejo_ starts a fuckin’ bakery business when.” Punch. “There is.” Punch. “One.” Punch. “Already. Across. The. Street!” He delivered the final blow to the bread dough and shoved the pan aside, readying the counter for another.

 

Hunk and Pidge looked on, Hunk in slight fear and Pidge in amazement.

 

“You know, I don’t think that last batch of bread is gonna turn out the way you want it to.” Pidge noted, looking at the sad excuse of ‘kneaded’ bread.

 

“Yeah, dude,” Hunk added. “What you were doing was less ‘kneading’ and more ‘aggressive loving due to pent up anger and sexual frustration’.” He reached over and grabbed a finished bagel from the cooling tray and bit into it.

 

“It’ll be fine!” Lance barked, causing Pidge and Hunk to jump up in surprise. “Just like _everything else_ in this God-forsaken world! Fine! Fine, fine, fine!” He angrily grabbed a clean pan from the drying rack and slammed it down on the counter. “Fine!”

 

“Bro, I think Lance has lost his marbles,” Hunk muttered through his bagel.

 

Pidge sighed and rubbed at their temple. “Look, Lance, I don’t understand what you’re so angry about.”

 

Lance slapped some finished dough onto the counter and started hitting it again. “I’m _a little peeved_ because that _bakery_ across the street is gonna be bad for business!” Punch. “Who just fucking decides, ‘Oh hey, you know what I’m gonna do today?! I’m gonna completely fuck over Lance’s life and set my stupid, ugly, fuckin’ bakery _right across_ from his!’ I mean, who does that!?” Punch.

 

“I don’t think anyone really decides to do that,” Pidge muttered. “Look, I’m sure the owner doesn’t _mean_ to drive out your business. This is a very nice part of downtown where lots of revenue from tourists comes in.”

 

“Yeah! Revenue that _used_ to come to me! But now we gotta compete with ‘Whoever-the- _fuck's_ Bakery’ over there! We’re not gonna be earning as much money as we usually do! We’re gonna slowly go under. All of our business is going to be handed over to that shiny, new bakery!” Lance landed a few more good punches to the dough before sighing and setting it aside. “This is it, boys. We’re done for.”

 

“Oh, please, Lance, you’re over exaggerating.” Pidge rolled their eyes and took the two finished bread doughs to the rising tray. “That bakery is _not_ going to wipe out our business. We have plenty of frequenters who are dedicated to this shop, for some reason.”

 

“It’s probably Lance’s lemon squares. Those things can cause the manliest of men to weep tears of joy.” Hunk added.

 

Pidge nodded, understanding full well the intoxicating smell and taste of Lance’s lemon bars. “Exactly.” They looked up at Lance, who was pathetically stirring a muffin mix with the most pitiful look in his eyes. “Lance, as your financial advisor, I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

 

Lance sighed and added in some blueberries to the mix. “I just don’t want this business to fall apart. I’ve worked too hard for it.”

 

Pidge and Hunk exchanged worried glances. “It won’t,” Pidge assured him. “I can guarantee you, it won’t.”

 

Lance sighed (for like the fifth time within a minute) and gave Pidge a small smile. “Well, if my ‘ _financial advisor_ ’ says I’ll be okay, then, I guess I’ll be okay.”

 

Pidge grinned. “Of course you will be. I’m always right.” Then they frowned and turned around to face Hunk. “Aren’t you supposed to be manning the front counter? What if a customer comes in and you’re not there to take care of them?”

 

Hunk’s eyes widened and he sputtered out an, “Oh crap!” before wheeling around and heading for the front.

 

Pidge sighed and shook their head, turning to look at Lance, who was giving them a _very_ pointed and slightly worried look.

 

“We’ll be okay,” Pidge said.

 

\--

 

“We will _absolutely_ not be okay!” Lance yelled on his way in, a few days later. He was holding that morning’s newspaper, his face red and eyes flaming with anger. “I’m sorry, Pidge, but for once, you are wrong!”

 

“Oh boy,” Pidge muttered under their breath.

 

“Look at this! Look at this shit!” Lance threw the paper onto the counter and pointed to a fairly small article on the front page of the food section.

 

Pidge pushed up their glasses and read the article title out loud. “‘New downtown bakery is the best in town’?” Pidge sent up a worried glance.

 

“Keep reading,” Lance spat.

 

“‘The newest addition to the downtown area: Altean Delights seems to be the hit new place for people to get their coffee and donut fix. This bakery provides traditional baked goods with a modern twist.’” Pidge continued reading silently as Lance marched behind the counter and angrily tied on his fluffy blue apron. “What the fuck?” Pidge muttered.

 

“My words exactly!” Lance yelled. “When we opened, we didn’t get _one single fucking article_! Not even an ad! But this bullshit bakery is open for—what—two days? And suddenly it’s the best thing since sliced bread! It’s bullshit! Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit! _Caquita de la vaquita!_ ” He threw open the doors to the kitchen, storming his way past Hunk, who was—calmly and gently—kneading fresh dough and pointedly ignoring the stress and anger radiating off of Lance.

 

Pidge followed Lance into the kitchen and back into the storage rooms where they kept their dry ingredients. “Lance, where are you going?” they asked, exasperated.

 

“I’m going to where the flour is so I can punch it!”

 

“Lance—Lance, no. Last time that happened, we had to shut down the store for a week. No.” Pidge grabbed Lance’s arm, jerking him back. “None of that, now.”

 

Lance huffed angrily, his hands shaking. “I just—I mean! AUGH! The fucking _nerve!_ ” He kicked a stray can over and dragged his fingers through his hair, pulling at the short strands. “We can’t compete! We’re gonna be gone by the week’s end! The landlord’s gonna take one good look at that article and assume we’re gone! Toast! Goodbye! _Adiós!_ ” He leaned against the wall of the room and slid down, his head in his hands. “We’re doomed,” he wept pathetically.

 

Pidge pursed their lips. If there was a camera filming them, Pidge swears they would have looked directly into it, like on _The Office_. “I swear to God, you are such a drama queen.”

 

“Leave me alone to die,” Lance moaned.

 

“You’re a pain. An absolute pain.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be supporting me in my darkest of times?” Lance bemoaned.

 

“Not when you’re acting like a nuisance.”

 

“Mean!” Lance looked up at Pidge and pointed an accusatory finger. “You, Pidge! Are mean! Your best friend license has been revoked—HUNK!” He leaned over and hollered, “YOU ARE NOW MY BEST FRIEND; PIDGE IS DEAD TO ME.”

 

“I didn’t know I _was_ your best friend,” Pidge muttered at the same time Hunk let out a ferocious and happy roar.

 

They sighed. “All jokes aside, though, Lance… You’re taking this too harshly. Just because the bakery got a good review doesn’t mean everyone else thinks we’re shit. We’ll be okay.”

 

“You know what I need to do?” Lance muttered to himself. “I need to confront those jackasses.”

 

 _Oh boy._ “Lance, no.”

 

“Lance _yes_.” Lance jumped up, a new spring to his step. “I’m going to go over to that _espectáculo de mierda_ and talk to the _bastardo_ who is stealing my business.”

 

“Lance, as your second best friend, I can assure you that this is a bad idea. Like, extremely bad.” Pidge followed Lance out of the storage room. “Like, this is _Taco Bell at midnight_ kind of bad.”

 

“I’m going to go over there and give them a piece of my mind,” Lance muttered, as if he didn’t even hear Pidge.

 

“Let me repeat that in case you didn’t hear me before,” Pidge said louder and a little more annoyed. “This is _a very, very, very_ bad idea!” But Lance continued forward. “Hunk!” They turned toward the other in desperation. “Stop him!”

 

Hunk looked over at Lance, who was putting a couple of muffins into a bakery box angrily, muttering curses in Spanish under his breath. “Uh… yeah, as Lance’s New Best Friend Forever… I’m gonna have to go along with whatever my bro is doing, so. No can do. Yeah, sorry, dude.”

 

Pidge groaned and angrily ran their hands through their hair. “Hopeless! Both of you are absolutely hopeless!” They whirled around to face Lance, anger flashing in their eyes. “Fine then! Don’t listen to me! Make a complete ass of yourself, see if I care! But I can already tell you now, the only _shit show_ that’s happening is your pathetic attitude!” With that, they stormed away, heading back into the storage room, where they proceeded to scream out their frustrations.

 

Lance and Hunk looked back at where Pidge had disappeared to and then looked back at each other. Lance shrugged. “And they call _me_ a drama queen, damn.” He finished up packing the box and nodded at Hunk. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone. I think Pidge is too emotionally compromised to deal with people right now.” They both jumped when Pidge let out another scream.

 

Hunk nodded and gave a mock-salute. “You got it, chief. Good luck out there.”

 

Lance nodded back and headed toward the bakery across the street.

 

 _Just wait ‘til they get a load of me_ , Lance thought to himself smugly. _After this, they’re going to be groveling at my feet, worshipping me. They’re going to_ wish _they hadn’t messed with me._ He grinned at the thought. _Maybe there will be a parade, in my honor._

 

When Lance stepped into the bakery, the first thing he thought was, _home_. Immediately facing the door was the counter, with three workers behind it, two bustling to make coffee and one manning the cash register. Lining the edges of the counter were vines of jasmine, giving a sweet aroma to the air, mixed with the bitter smell of coffee. The counter was clear glass and filled with different pastries that made Lance almost water at the sight. Above the counter hung the coffee menu, written in chalk, and to the side of the counter, a clipping of the good review from the paper was taped to the wall. There were various booths and tables around the café, with different plants and flowers hanging from pots on the ceiling. Each table had a different flower in a small vase, and even the windowsills were home to various cacti. A soft classical tune was playing from the speakers, muffled by the low hum of the bustling amount of people in the room. _It’s not even seven yet, what the fuck_.

 

All in all, the bakery was very homey and crowded and it pissed Lance off more than he thought it would.

 

“Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

 

Lance’s head whipped around and he glared at the worker who _dared_ to treat him so kindly.

 

He was met with a dark, unimpressed stare and the most beautiful face Lance had ever seen.

 

Soft, dark hair framed an equally soft looking face. Dark, almond eyes and a round, button nose and _oh God those lips look so soft and kissable and—_

 

Fingers snapped in front of his face and Lance was dragged out of whatever trance he had been in. _Stop being so gay, idiot, you’re here for a reason._ Lance regained his straight posture and glared at the boy in front of him. “Yeah! I’m from the bakery across the street.”

 

The boy—known from his nametag as ‘Keith’—raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t even know there was a bakery across the street. Huh. The more you know.” He looked out the windows and hummed. “Must be a slow day then, huh? There’s barely anyone over there.”

 

Lance dug his fingers into the box he was holding, no doubt creating fingernail imprints into the cardboard. He bit his lip harshly and calmed down his breathing. _One, two, three… One, two three… That’s it, Lance. Calm yourself. No throttling some beautif—UGLY asshole you just met. Yes, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…_ He looked up at Keith’s face and mustered up the kindest smile he could, given the situation. “Yeah, well, there _is_ a bakery. And I’ll have you know that we are on the ‘Top 100 places to eat in the downtown area’ list,” Lance said smugly. “And Mondays happen to be a _very_ busy day for us. It’s just… hot outside, so not a lot of people want coffee.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow and looked around the café, where there were at least thirty people crammed into the multitude of booths and tables, almost all of them sporting coffee.

 

Lance pursed his lips, shifting his feet a little bit. “Well, anyway, you get the point. My bakery is _the shit_.”

 

“Well… uh, good for you, then. I guess.” Keith shrugged. “Is there anything I can get you?”

 

Lance’s mouth dropped. _Did this guy not read the situation at all? I’m here to intimidate the competition and he’s acting like my existence is no big deal to him! The fucking NERVE!_ Lance smiled bitterly. “Oh, no, I’m not here for anything. I just came to deliver a special ‘welcome’ present.” He thrust the box in Keith’s general direction. “For you and the other workers.”

 

Keith looked down at the box. “Uh… thanks.” He took the box and set it to the side. “Is that all?”

 

Lance’s eyes widened and he sputtered out a, “Well—Yes! I mean, uh… NO! I am Lance! My name. Is Lance! And from here on out, you are officially my rival! Remember my name!” Then he proceeded to back out, nearly tripping over himself. He maintained eye contact with Keith, who was looking at him like he sprouted a second head, until he was out the door.

 

Lance smirked as he jogged back across the street. _Nailed it._

He flung open the door to his own café with a flourish. “No need to thank me, my good people, but I just _slayed_ the competition!”

 

Pidge was sitting on the counter next to where Hunk was standing. They raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Really now?”

 

“You bet! Altean Delights didn’t know what hit them when I strutted in, all badass!” Lance grinned cockily and leaned against the counter. “I totally intimidated them.”

 

Hunk grinned. “Hell, yeah! Good job man.” He raised his fist for a fistbump, which Lance delivered graciously.

 

Pidge looked Lance over and snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure you _reeeeally_ intimidated them.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes. “What’s with that sarcastic tone, Pidge? Do you doubt my scaring abilities?”

 

“Oh, no. I don’t doubt them at all. I’m just wondering how much damage you could have done to those poor people while wearing such a cute, frilly apron.”

 

Lance felt his stomach drop. _Oh no._ He slowly looked down at his attire, wincing when he saw the blue apron he had donned just before going over to the other bakery. “That… I…”

 

Hunk collapsed against the counter, shaking with laughter. Pidge only smiled, as if Lance’s humiliation was amusing to them. “I mean, technically you _did_ give them free muffins sooooo…”

 

“Kill me,” Lance muttered sadly, resting his head against the glass countertop. “Just fucking kill me.”

 

\--

 

A few days later, around noon, the devil himself waltzed into Lance’s store as if it were his own home. It just so happened that Lance was manning the register while Hunk took his lunch break and Pidge was making scones in the back. So it was up to him to slay the beast.

 

“Oooooh no. Nuh uh. No way. Noooo way,” Lance grumbled, seeing none other than Keith come up to him, holding a pastel pink box with Altean Delights’ logo embellished on the side. _They even have customized boxes, what the hell?_ “No, Leave.”

 

Keith gave him a startled look. “Excuse me?”

 

Lance glared at him. “You _cannot_ just waltz on in here like you own this place! Because, guess what, you _don’t_ own this place! I own this place! My name is on the lease! My name! Not yours! Not Keith! Lance! _Lance!_ ”

 

Keith stared at him for a bit before shaking his head and holding out the box. “Whatever. Look, my boss—”

 

“And who do you think you are, letting me make a fool of myself! If it weren’t for you and your _stupid_ café, I wouldn’t have shown up and made a complete dick of myself while wearing a frilly apron! Yes! That’s it! I’ve come to the conclusion that all of this bullshit-ery,” Lance waved his hand around, as if gesturing to the situation, and pointed a finger toward Keith. “Is your fault.”

 

Keith stared at him, a little irritated. “What the hell are you going on about?”

 

Lance scoffed. “Oh, please. You _know_ what you did! You and your… your _cronies_ decided to put your café _right across from mine_ because you knew it would drive away my business! Well, guess what, _cabrón,_ it’s not gonna work! This bakery is here to fuckin’ _stay_ and your shitty café isn’t gonna change that!”

 

“Hey, dude, we didn’t—”

 

“ _And for the record,”_ Lance continued, “ _We_ were here first, so technically, we have all bakery rights on this strip! So _you_ are the ones at fault here! Technically I could sue your ass.” (He couldn’t).

 

“Look,” Keith ground out angrily, “I don’t know what’s going on in that fucked up brain of yours, but everyone over there,” he pointed across the street, “couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your shitty bakery. We didn’t even know there _was_ a bakery in this area. But do you wanna know how we found out? Because some _jackass_ decided to barge in on one of our busiest days and declare us his rival.” Keith’s eyes shone with hatred. “I’m only here because Allura—my boss—sent me here to return the favor for your nasty muffins. So just take—”

 

“Did you just call my muffins nasty?!” Lance yelled. “What the _fuck_ , dude! I delivered those outta the kindness of my heart!”

 

“Yeah, I bet your intentions were _real_ pure,” Keith snorted.

 

“You!” Lance put two fingers up in a cross shape. “Are the devil! Leave my place! The power of Christ _compels you_!”

 

“JUST TAKE THESE BROWNIES AND LET ME LEAVE IN PEACE,” Keith yelled. He threw the box at Lance, nearly hitting him in the face. He stormed out of the store, but not before saying, “And yeah, your muffins were nasty! Shitty! Disgusting! Goodbye!” He shut the door harshly but then opened it up again to say quietly, “I hope you enjoy the brownies.”

 

Then he was gone.

 

“What the _fuck_!” Lance screamed. “What the fuck! What the fucking fuck does that fucker thinks he’s—FUCK!” Lance stormed into the kitchen area, where Pidge was trying to brace themselves for the oncoming storm that was Lance’s temper tantrum. “Pidge!” Lance shoved the box in Pidge’s face. “Do you _see_ this?”

 

Pidge looked down at the box. “That’s a very cute box you have there, Lance.”

 

“What are you—NOT THE BOX! The brownies! THE BROWNIES!” Lance aggressively opened the box to reveal a sheet of brownies that, honestly, looked fucking fantastic.

 

“Ooooh those look so good,” Pidge cooed. “Are they from across the street?”

 

“Yes!” Lance groaned. “And fucking _Keith_ brought them over!”

 

“Oh, well that was nice of him.”

 

“No, no, no! Pidge you don’t see what he’s doing! He’s trying to one-up us! He’s retaliating against the muffins! _The muffins!_ ” Lance turned toward Hunk, who was just entering the room. “Hunk! Look at these brownies and tell me what you smell!”

 

“Uh…” Hunk sniffed and said, “Chocolate? And maybe a hint of caramel?”

 

“No, you _idiota_! It smells like _war_!”

 

“Oh no,” Pidge whispered.

 

“Oh _yes_!” Lance grinned. “Tomorrow starts the beginning of the biggest war since World War Two! Tomorrow, we fire back!”

 

Hunk and Pidge stared at him blankly. “Sooo,” Hunk said, “Does that mean we can eat the brownies?”

 

“NO! That would be giving in. We _can’t_ give in!” Lance closed the box and headed to the front of the store. “You two get crackin’ on what we’re going to send over tomorrow, because it’s gotta be good and it’s gotta be _orgasmic_.”

 

“Gross,” Pidge muttered.

 

“Orgasmic!” Lance repeated happily.

 

\--

 

Hours later, way past closing time, Lance was sweeping up the front of the store by himself. By then, he had already sent Pidge and Hunk home, since they both needed a good night’s sleep for the oncoming battle the next day. By the time he was finished sweeping, Lance was exhausted. He plopped himself down on the stool behind the counter and rested his head on the glass top. He sighed when he felt his stomach ache with hunger. The last thing he ate was an orange slice from when he was making orange cupcakes, and that was hours ago.

 

He turned his head and hummed when the pink box caught his eye. He shifted around and slowly reached over to bring the box closer to him.

 

 _It wouldn’t hurt to try at least one, right? To at least get a taste of the competition…_ He opened the box and took a brownie from the sheet. He sniffed at the dessert. It didn’t _smell_ poisoned. With a shrug, Lance bit into the brownie and _oh my God_.

 

It was…

 

It was fucking _amazing._

 

Within seconds, the brownie was gone and Lance was already reaching for another. He bit into the second brownie when he realized. _These are the enemies’ brownies._ He spat out the piece of brownie into the trashcan and frowned. Despite them being from the enemy, they had to be the best brownies Lance had ever tasted and it pissed him off to _no end._

 

“Fucking Keith,” Lance muttered shoving the top back onto the box and storming into the kitchen.

 

 _This is war_.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Pidge walked into the kitchen to find Lance already there, angrily stirring in cranberries into a batter.

 

“Pidge!” Lance barked when he saw them. “As of now, we are executing operation: Make Keith Cry Because of My Cranberry and Chocolate Croissants. Get your apron on and get baking! We are preparing for battle and we need you!”

 

Pidge gave a dry look. “Good morning to you too, starshine.”

 

“ _Pidge!_ ”

 

Pidge sighed and waved Lance off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it. What’s the sitch?” They went over to the sink and turned on the water.

 

“Okay, so, I have the first batch of croissants already in the oven. Once those are done, Hunk _should_ be back from the party store so we can box them up.”

 

“Why did you send Hunk to the party store?” Pidge asked while washing their hands.

 

“God—do you not know _anything_ Pidge?” He ignored Pidge’s death glare. “Presentation is _key_! You saw how cute their box was! We can’t let them one-up us in taste _and_ style! So, I stayed up late last night watching cooking shows to get a good feel about how to properly prepare a dish.” Lance got to work pouring more cranberries into the mix.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Pidge muttered. “Hunk’s right, you truly are losing your marbles.”

 

“I _am not_ ,” Lance used the spoon he was holding to point at Pidge, “Losing my marbles. I have just the right amount of marbles, thank you very much. They are colorful and shining, just like my personality.”

 

Pidge snorted and shook their head, heading over to the oven to check on the croissants.

 

“How’re they looking?” Lance asked.

 

“They look amazing, just as always,” Pidge nodded. “They should be ready in about ten minutes.”

 

“Perfect.” Lance grinned and set the bowl down on the counter and wiped off the excess flour onto his apron.

 

By the time Hunk returned, the croissants were ready to be packaged. “I got some ribbon and stickers,” he said, dumping the bags onto the counter. “And some paper in case we wanted to write a note or something.”

 

Lance nodded and hummed. “Good thinking, Hunk.” He got out a box and put a sheet of wax paper inside to line the bottom. Slowly, he used a spatula to set four croissants into the box. He shut the lid and slid the box over to Pidge. “You two get to work making the box look cute. I’m going to write a note to Keith.” He took a sheet of paper from the bag and grabbed a pen from his apron pocket. “What should it say?” he mumbled.

 

“How about something like ‘I hope you enjoy these croissants. Love, Lance’?” Hunk offered.

 

Lance wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, no. That’s too nice. It has to be something clever and insulting.”

 

“Why does it have to be insulting?” Pidge asked while tying the ribbon into a bow.

 

Lance hummed and scribbled down a short note and folded the paper up. “That’ll do.” He nodded and turned to Pidge. “Is the box ready?”

 

“Yeah, here.” Pidge slid the box over and watched as Lance stuck the note under the ribbon. “What did you write?”

 

Lance grinned. “‘Your move, Mullet Man.’” He frowned when Pidge snorted. “What’s wrong with it?”

 

“That’s just… so lame,” they smirked. “Mullet Man?”

 

Lance shrugged and made a waving motion with his hand. “He’s got this… hair. It looks like a mullet. It’s tacky.”

 

“Mhm, okay, whatever you say,” Pidge grinned.

 

“Hunk!” Lance called. “You are in charge of delivery.” He slowly put the box in Hunk’s hands.

 

“Wh—Me?” Hunk looked at Lance worriedly. “But… what if something happens?”

 

Lance put his hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen. You’ll be okay. I _believe_ in you.” He gave Hunk a very serious look. “You can do this.”

 

Hunk sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah… I can do this.”

 

Pidge looked on at the spectacle. “He’s literally going across the street.”

 

“Pidge,” Lance looked over at them. “I’m getting very tired of your negative and saucy attitude.”

 

“Saucy.”

 

“Yes. Saucy.”

 

Pidge rolled their eyes. “Whatever. Just. Be morons. I don’t care.”

 

Lance stuck out his tongue at Pidge like an adult and turned back to Hunk. “It’s time.”

 

Hunk took a deep breath. “I’ll be back,” he said in a mock-Terminator voice.

 

Lance sent him a salute and watched with a grin as Hunk headed over across the street. “He’s a man among men,” he said gravely.

 

“Oh, he’s _something_ alright,” Pidge muttered, cleaning the trays the croissants had been on. They looked over at Lance, who was happily humming while putting the rest of the croissants into the oven.

 

Pidge sighed and rubbed at their temple. _I’ve got a bad feeling about this._

\--

 

The next day, a tall hunk of a man walked through the door and gently set a pastel pink box on the counter. When Lance gave him a blank (and starry-eyed) look, he coughed. “I’m, uh, Shiro. From the bakery across the street.” Lance then gave him a look that was akin to the face of someone eating a raw egg. The guy looked away nervously. He pushed the box to Lance and shuffled back a few steps. “Keith told me to take this over to you.”

 

He was met with silence.

 

“So… uh… yeah.” He backed away slowly. When he was nearly out the door, he said, “Thank you for the croissants. They were… good…” Then he walked out.

 

Lance silently looked down at the box. He opened it slowly and grimaced as he was met with a piece of chocolate cake that had small, pink roses lining the edge.

 

When Lance took a bite of the cake, he honest to God felt his soul leave his body and ascend to a higher plane. _Food shouldn’t make my eyes roll back like this oh my God._ It was the best goddamn cake Lance had ever had, and he’s had some pretty good cakes in his lifetime.

 

Frustrated, he slammed the top of the box back on, only then noticing the piece of paper taped to the lid. He plucked it off and slowly opened it, gritting his teeth as he read the note.

 

_I’m just getting started._

_—Keith_

\--

 

That’s how it was, for weeks. Lance would send over freshly baked goods that he thought would trump _anything_ Keith handed over to him, only to have his ass handed to him by some delectable that was delivered to him by some other worker or sometimes Keith himself.

 

Every single one of the sweets sent over contained some kind of note from either party.

 

_(Keith,_

_I hope you choke on these tarts and die._

_—Lance)_

_(Lance,_

_Sorry, I didn’t die. But those tarts were bitter. Just like your personality._

_Hope you like these cupcakes._

_—Keith)_

_(Keith,_

_Fuck you. And fuck your cupcakes. Don’t go so stingy on the icing next time. Take this pie slice as a consolation prize for your wounded ego._

_—Lance)_

_(Lance,_

_Oh, so you have a sweet tooth then? Noted. Have a sugar free cookie, on the house._

_—Keith)_

_(Keith,_

_I hope you enjoy this brownie. :)_

_—Lance)_

_(Lance,_

_What the fuck was in that brownie and why was it so spicy. Enjoy this gelato._

_—Keith)_

_(Keith,_

_Haha you’re so white, even brownies are spicy to you._

_—Lance)_

_(Lance,_

_I’m Korean you sack of shit._

_—Keith)_

_(Keith,_

_Dully noted._

_—Lance)_

Eventually, it became less about the food and more about the bickering.

 

Through this painful process of cat and mouse, he met all the employees of Altean Delights.

 

There was Shiro, who was large and kind of quiet, but had an intimidating aura about him. He was pretty cool even though he _was_ technically the competition. Shiro had often struck up conversation with Lance and the others, complementing the different foods Hunk had delivered to the other shop.

 

“Just wait ‘til you taste Lance’s lemon bars, though,” Pidge had said gravely. “They will make you contemplate the secrets of the universe.”

 

Shiro had laughed. “Well, then, I hope one day he brings them over.”

 

Lance was only a _little_ star struck with Shiro. Just a little.

 

The other employee—aside from Keith—was a beautiful women named Allura. She had a soft voice and gorgeous dark skin and was just radiating with generosity. She was unnaturally kind and even laughed when Lance tried to hit on her.

 

“I’m afraid you’re not my type. At all,” She said, giving a sweet smile.

 

And there was Coran, who was basically the manager of the whole establishment. Lance had never personally met him, but Allura had only good things to say about him.

 

“He can be pretty ridiculous at times,” she had said one day during another sweets delivery. “But inside, I know he’s serious about his work. He kind of reminds me of you, Lance.” Lance had grinned and blushed ridiculously at that comment.

 

Then… there was Keith.

 

Keith. With this stupid mullet and his stupid face and his stupid cake that made Lance’s eyes roll back into his head and made him make obscene noises, much to Pidge’s disgust. Keith was the worst of all of them. He was cocky, rude, and always gave Lance shit about anything he brought over.

 

“Your cookies were pretty dry, you know,” Keith had said with a malicious smirk. “Maybe next time you should tone down on the flour?” He had then laughed when Lance yelled at him in Spanish, calling him some very colorful names.

 

“Can you fucking _believe_ that _hijo de puta_? Calling _my_ cookies _dry_? _My cookies!_ Dry!” Lance had grumbled while sweeping up for the day.

 

“Mmm… yeah. He’s the worst. Awful. Absolutely terrible,” Pidge said dryly while counting the money in the cash register. “He is a very, _very_ bad person, especially because he sends you over free food nearly two times a week.” They closed the register and gave Lance a blank stare. “He is truly the worst.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes and shoved the broom back into the storage closet. “No need to get saucy with me. I’m just saying it as it is.”

 

“And _I’m_ saying it as it is. Keith’s not a bad guy.”

 

Lance scoffed. “Yeah, right. That guy’s a class-A jerk. He insults my food literally all the time.”

 

“You know, he’s probably just fucking with you,” Pidge hummed, leaning against the counter. “I’ve actually talked to him before, he’s pretty cool.”

 

“Traitor!” Lance hollered. “You are a traitor! Fraternizing with the enemy!”

 

Pidge frowned. “You talk to Allura literally, like, all the time.”

 

“That’s different! She’s Allura! This is _Keith_ we’re talking about! _Keith!_ ” Lance flailed his arms around, as if he were swatting at a fly. “He’s a pest! A menace! He’s a threat to our business and society as a whole!”

 

Pidge snorted and rolled their eyes. “Yeah, he’s a _real_ threat to society. You know, I heard on his off days he volunteers at a local animal shelter to care for the stray cats that come in? Do you think we should report to the shelter that he’s actually a dangerous person? He might do something _terrible_ to those cats,” they cooed.

 

Lance huffed, scowling at Pidge. Although he was one hundred percent sure Keith was The Worst, the image of him playing with tiny kittens was oddly cute. Like… really cute. Lance could imagine him laughing and holding out a string for the cats to play with. Keith holding a bunch of kittens, petting them, having them fall asleep on him…

 

It was so cute, Lance wanted to puke.

 

“W-whatever!” Lance stuttered, blushing at the image he created in his brain. “He’s still awful and I hate him!”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge laughed. “You keep telling yourself that.”

 

\--

 

One day, Keith came in with only a paper bag and a cup of coffee with the Altean Delights’ logo on it.

 

Lance had seen him coming from across the street and had thought up many opening lines to say to him once he came in.

 

(“Hey Keith, Billy Ray Cyrus called, he wants his mullet back.”)

 

(“Nice hair, Keith, where’d you get it? Mullets-R-Us?”)

 

(“What’s wrong, Keith? Couldn’t get enough of me?”)

 

(“Hey Keith, if there were two guys on the moon and one killed the other with a rock would that be fucked up or what?”)

 

Different things like that.

 

“Back again, I see,” Lance grinned when Keith came in. “What is it this time? Macarons? Cake? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s terrible.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, but smirked nonetheless. “Here,” he said, thrusting the bag and cup toward Lance.

 

Lance raised an inquisitive eyebrow, eyeing the cup suspiciously. “What’s this?”

 

“Obviously, it’s for you, dipshit.”

 

“I-I _know that_ , Mullet Brain!” Lance sputtered. “I just wanted to know what’s up with the cup!”

 

Keith furrowed his eyebrows. “Obviously, I brought you coffee?”

 

“You _what_?!” Lance shrieked.

 

“I… brought you coffee?” Keith tilted his head and gave a questioning look which honestly should not have been so cute, especially on _Keith_.

 

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to one-up me again? Because lemme tell you, it is not going to work because Hunk makes the best macchiato I’ve ever—”

 

“Oh my God, just take the coffee,” Keith laughed. “I’m not doing this to ‘one up you’ or anything. I’m doing this because it’s getting colder and I’m trying to be a decent human being. Plus, Shiro’s cappuccinos are to die for.” He gave a small smile and nudged the coffee over to Lance.

 

Lance pursed his lips. “Whatever,” he grumbled. He begrudgingly took a sip and mentally cursed because _fuck_ that was a good coffee. “Thanks,” he muttered shyly.

 

Keith smirked. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

 

“Now get out of my shop,” Lance said, pointing toward the door. “You’ve been here long enough! It’s starting to smell like that tacky cologne you wear!”

 

“Hey, my cologne’s not tacky.” Keith frowned.

 

“Out!” Lance barked. “Now! You’re infecting my business. I can already feel the desire to spend my paycheck on Hot Topic’s latest clothing lineup. You’re _poisoning me_ with your presence!”

 

“Fine, fine!” Keith huffed and walked out, but not before flipping Lance off, causing the other to laugh.

 

“That’s right! Leave! And never come back!”

 

(But he comes back, anyway.)

 

\--

 

Over the course of what Pidge would call Keith and Lance’s “friendship” (Lance would call it friendly rivalry), Lance slowly learned things about Keith.

 

1\. He went to culinary school. He mentioned it in passing before, when he was talking to Pidge one day. Apparently he didn’t complete it though, and ended up getting kicked out for some unknown reason. He really didn’t specify why.

 

“It was honestly a waste of my time,” Keith had shrugged. “And my money. I’m still thousands of dollars in debt, and I only went there for, like, half a year.” Lance had gotten a bit peeved at that, because it was always his childhood _dream_ to go to a prestigious culinary school like the one Keith had gone to.

 

But he didn’t say anything.

 

2\. He learned to cook from himself. Since he was in foster care for most of his childhood (and due to neglecting parents), Keith had to learn how to fend for himself when it came to food type stuff. He’s actually quite good at making traditional Korean dishes and he one time brought over a bowl of soup that had Hunk begging for Keith’s hand in marriage. Keith had thankfully declined.

 

3\. He really looks up to Shiro. One time, he was talking about Shiro to Lance and Pidge when Lance interrupted and said, “You talk about him like he’s so great, but really? What so amazing about him?”

 

Keith had glared at him and said, “He’s just… really strong and level headed. I consider him to be my older brother, in a way.” He had looked to the side and frowned. “He’s like the family I never had.”

 

Lance had hummed curiously, but didn’t pry anymore.

 

4\. He has a really nice smile. And a cute laugh. Lance had only gotten a chance to see these rarities when the two of them were actually getting along and not fighting like children. When he first saw Keith smile, Lance had gaped at the other until Keith asked if he had finally become braindead, which caused Lance to yell that _Keith_ was the braindead one. But even after that, Lance hadn’t been able to get Keith’s smile out of his head, for some reason.

 

When he first heard him laugh, Lance had to literally take a moment to catch his breath because, honestly, no one should look that cute and have a laugh that literally _twinkles_.

 

It’s disgusting, really.

 

\--

 

Lance didn’t fully realize he had a problem until Pidge mentioned it one day.

 

“So you and Keith seem to be hitting it off,” they had said passively while wiping down the counter in the kitchen.

 

Lance shrugged and cracked another egg, shifting the yolk from shell to shell, as to only get the whites. “He’s whatever.”

 

Pidge hummed. “It seems that he’s a little more than _whatever_ to you, if you know what I mean.” Lance didn’t like the tone that Pidge had.

 

“I mean, he’s not as bad as I made him out to be, I guess,” Lance said, stirring the wet ingredients together. “He’s still a jerk and he gets on my nerves, like, all the time. But.” He paused in his stirring, and looked down at the batter. “He’s not _terrible_ , I guess.” Lance thought about the other day, when Keith had Allura deliver a strawberry shortcake to him. The shortcake was amazing (of course it was, Keith made it) but it was the note that really surprised Lance.

 

_Lance,_

_Enjoy. I added extra strawberries and whipped cream. Just for you._

_—Keith_

And underneath that was a crudely drawn strawberry. Lance had read over the note at least ten times, highlighting in his mind the ‘just for you’ bit. It really shouldn’t have made him as happy as it did. And the terribly drawn strawberry was just… really fucking cute, okay? Lance had ended up tucking the note into his apron and setting aside on his bedside table when he got home. But nobody had to know that.

 

“I was talking to Shiro the other day,” Pidge cut in, effectively knocking Lance out of his thoughts. “And he said something that I thought was really interesting…”

 

Lance hummed. “Yeah?” He continued whipping the batter, watching as it slowly became fluffier. These macarons were gonna be fucking _amazing_.

 

“Yeah… He said something about you and Keith arguing like an old married couple.”

 

Lance nearly dropped the bowl of batter he was holding. He did, however, drop the spoon, causing a glob of batter to fall with it.

 

“ _Mierda!_ ” Lance hissed. He quickly grabbed the spoon and set it in the sink to be cleaned. “You… haha… man, Pidge, you can’t just say things like that! Haha! You really got me!”

 

“Technically, I didn’t say it. Shiro did.” Pidge set their rag aside and looked at Lance. “And… I can see where he’s coming from, really.”

 

Lance scoffed, trying to feign indifference, even though he could feel how warm his face was. “Y-yeah right,” he mumbled. Lance tried very hard to not think about Keith. He tried to not think about holding Keith’s hand or smooching Keith’s dumb face. And he _definitely_ tried to not think about Keith in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle, smiling at Lance in that way he does that makes Lance’s heart thud painfully in his chest and _fuck_ …

 

“Fuck… Oh my God…” Lance gripped at his hair tightly. “Oh…  fuck… _fuck… Qué chingados!”_ He slid down to the ground and leaned against the counter. “I like him. I… I fucking like him what the _shit_.”

 

Pidge hummed. “Yeah, you do.”

 

Lance looked up at them with wide eyes. “You _knew_?!” His voice cracked a little bit at the end and usually he would be embarrassed, but honestly, he could care less at that point.

 

They shrugged. “It was kinda obvious. Well, at least for me it was. And Shiro. And Allura. And Hunk.” At the horrified look Lance gave them, they said, “I’m sure Keith doesn’t know! I mean, he seems pretty dense, you know?”

 

Lance covered his eyes with his hands, trying to maintain his breathing. _One, two, three… One, two, three… One, two, three…_ “Pidge,” he croaked out pathetically, “What am I gonna _do_?”

 

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “You could… tell him how you feel?”

 

“I can’t _do_ that, though!” Lance moaned. “I’m supposed to _hate_ him. We’re supposed to be _rivals_! I wasn’t supposed to be friends with him, let alone fall for him!” He brought his knees up to his chest. “What if he thinks I’m weird? What if… he hates me. Oh God…”

 

“He’s not going to hate you,” Pidge offered softly.

 

“But… what if he’s disgusted? What if he never wants to see me again? Hell, Pidge, I don’t even know if he’s _gay,_ or even _likes_ dudes!”

 

Pidge sighed. “Jesus, Lance. I haven’t seen you sound _this_ pathetic since you first saw the damn bakery.” They plopped themselves beside Lance and wrapped an arm around their shoulder. “It’ll be okay, buddy. Just tell him how you feel. He’ll still be your friend, no matter what.”

 

“We’re not friends,” Lance whimpered, sniffling.

 

Pidge rolled their eyes. “Rivals. Whatever. That’s beside the point. The point is that Keith isn’t the type of person to hate someone because of their sexuality.”

 

“This is more than my sexuality though, Pidge. You and I both know that I’m a flaming bisexual. Literally everyone on Earth knows that I’m a flaming bisexual. This is about my liking Keith. My _like_ liking Keith.” Lance rested his head on his knees. “I don’t know how he would react, and, if I’m honest with myself, I don’t know if I want to know.”

 

Pidge pursed their lips and looked off to the side. “I’m not going to force you to confess to him. I just think that you’ll feel better if you do.”

 

“Y’know Pidge, you’re right pretty much all the time.” Lance gave a sad smile. “But I think you might be wrong just this once.”

 

Pidge gave him a blank stare. “So you’re going to run?”

 

“Not run. Hide.”

 

Pidge sighed and shook their head. “You can’t hide from him all the time, Lance.”

 

Lance smiled. “I know. But I can at least try.”

 

\--

 

Lance didn’t send any food to Keith that whole week. Or the week after. Or the week after that. In fact, he had stopped all communication with Keith. Lance knew that it was probably the coward’s way of dealing with his problems, but he didn’t know if he would be ready to face Keith anytime soon.

 

The fact that he literally could not stop thinking about Keith didn’t help his anxiety and paranoia either. Everything around him reminded him of Keith. That pan was the same pan he baked the first muffins to send to Keith on. That spatula was the same spatula he used to stir the brownie mix for the brownies he sent to Keith. Speaking of brownies, Keith’s brownies taste really good and kind of remind Lance of Keith’s eyes, all dark but with flakes of gold in them that shone whenever he smiled.

 

And, _God_ , when Keith smiled genuinely, his lips would curl up just a bit and his dimples would show _just so._ Keith’s lips are probably the best part about him. They’re pink and full and Lance cannot count how many times he’s thought about kissing them. Or how they would feel pressed against his neck. Or other places. And… fuck… his hair. Keith’s hair is so stupid and so perfect, Lance just wants to run his fingers through the silky smooth locks. He wants to tug and pull on that hair and kiss Keith like he’s never been kissed before. He wants to hold Keith’s hand and take him on dates and use corny pickup lines on him.

 

He wants to be the one to make Keith smile and laugh. He wants to be the one to smother him with so much affection and tell him how wonderful and beautiful he is. He wants to wake up and see Keith smiling down at him. He wants to walk to work with Keith and visit him during breaks and kiss him in the break room.

 

He wanted to do so many things, but he knew he couldn’t.

 

Because Keith wasn’t Lance’s.

 

After about a week of silence from Lance, Keith tried to initiate some form of contact between the two of them.

 

Lance saw him coming from across the street with a bag in his hand. “Fuck! Pidge! Hunk! Whoever!” He ran into the kitchen. “Can one of you cover for me, and if he asks, I’m sick. Or taking a break. Or dead. I don’t care what you say! Just! Just don’t let him see me!” With that, he ducked into the supply room.

 

Pidge sighed and shook their head. “I’ve got it, Hunk,” they muttered.

 

When they got out to the front, Keith was standing there, a worried expression on his face. He noticed the door to the kitchen opening, and his face perked up. But there was a noticeable drop in happiness when he saw Pidge. (Pidge tried not to take any offense; Keith was obviously head over heels in love with Lance, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.) “Oh, uh… hey Pidge. Is Lance around?”

 

Pidge grit their teeth. _Stupid Lance._ They gave Keith a fake smile. “Uh, no. He’s not feeling too well right now.”

 

Keith bit his lip. “Will he be okay?”

 

Pidge waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine. He’s overreacting about it, honestly.”

 

“O-oh.”

 

“Yeah.” After a few moments of silence, Pidge continued. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

 

“Ah… No. Just, tell Lance I hope he feels better. Here.” He set a pink paper bag on the counter. “You can have this. It’s cheesecake, which is Lance’s favorite. But, since he’s not here, I guess you can have it.”

 

“Oh. Thanks.” Pidge gave a small smile. “I’ll let him know you’re worried. Thanks for dropping by.”

 

“Yeah… no problem.”

 

When Keith was gone, Pidge let out the breath they’d been holding in. _Fucking Lance._ They stormed back into the kitchen, bag in hand. “He’s gone,” they said.

 

Lance slinked out from the storage room, scratching the back of his head. “Thanks, Pidge.”

 

“Yeah, whatever. He was going to give you this. He said I could have it, but I don’t really like cheesecake.” They handed Lance the bag. “He seemed really worried.”

 

Lance grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

 

Pidge shrugged. “Don’t apologize to me. Just get over yourself.”

 

Lance sighed. “I can’t…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Pidge gave a small smile. “Just give us some warning before you push us into the fire.” Then they went over to the oven and checked on the cupcakes that were baking.

 

Lance sighed and opened the bag, immediately spotting the folded up piece of paper. He took it out and opened it up, frowning when he read the note.

 

_Lance,_

_Are you okay?_

_—Keith_   

 

Lance crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash.

 

\--

 

Keith continued visiting the bakery, much to Lance’s dismay. Every single time, he would see Keith coming and immediately run to hide, letting Hunk or Pidge do damage control. And every time, there was a pastry and some sort of note from Keith.

 

( _Lance,_

_You must be pretty sick, huh?_

_—Keith)_

_(Lance,_

_You know if there’s anything wrong, you can talk to me, right?_

_—Keith)_

_(Lance,_

_I’m getting kind of worried._

_—Keith)_

_(Lance,_

_Are you avoiding me?_

_—Keith)_

_(Lance,_

_Did I do something wrong?_

_—Keith)_

_(Lance,_

_Please talk to me._

_—Keith)_

Lance could tell how irritated Pidge was getting because of all of it. On more than one occasion, Lance had heard Pidge grumbling under their breath, talking to themselves about someone being a ‘coward’.

 

He had a feeling he knew who Pidge was talking about.

 

Eventually, Pidge broke down after Keith’s nth visit that week. “I swear to _God_ , Lance! This is getting absolutely ridiculous!”

 

Lance was frosting a batch of cupcakes when Pidge yelled. He looked up and gave an innocent smile. “What is?”

 

“ _You know what_ ,” Pidge said darkly.

 

Lance bit his lip and looked down at the cupcakes. He only had three more to do. “Pidge, you know I can’t—”

 

“ _Look_ ,” Pidge interrupted harshly. “You are breaking that boy’s heart!”

 

Lance’s eye widened. “I’m… what?” he croaked.

 

“Every single time Keith comes in, he looks more and more pitiful. You should have _seen_ him today, Lance. He looked like a kicked puppy. It physically _hurt_ me to turn him away.” Pidge grabbed a roll from the cooling rack and popped it into their mouth angrily.

 

“I’m just… scared,” Lance said.

 

“Of _what_?! Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet! Do you _see_ the way Keith looks at you?”

 

“Uh… no?”

 

Pidge groaned. “He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. Shiro says he hasn’t seen Keith smile this much in a long time. And you wanna know _why_ he’s smiling, Lance?”

 

Lance gulped. “I… that could be anything…”

 

Pidge glared daggers at him. “If you don’t confess to that boy by the end of this week, I’m going to personally drag your sorry ass over to him and force you to talk things over.” Their gaze softened. “You really shouldn’t be doing this to him, Lance.”

 

Lance sighed. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll. Fuck, I’ll tell him next time he comes in. I promise.”

 

Pidge sighed and nodded their head. “Good. Now finish frosting those cupcakes before the icing hardens.”

 

\--

 

The next time Keith showed up, Lance was at the front, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. He thought up different ways to ask Keith out.

 

(“Hey Keith, I just came to the shocking revelation that I’m gay as hell for you. Go out with me?”)

 

(“You’re super cute and I like your butt. Please go out with me.”)

 

(“So I’m too gay to function and really really like you would you perhaps like to go out with me?”)

 

(“I’m in lesbians with you.”)

 

When Keith walked in with a pastel pink box in his hands, he seemed almost shocked to see Lance. A multitude of emotions swept across his face. Happiness, relief, anger, hurt. Lance winced. Boy did he fuck up. “Lance,” he said.

 

“Keith,” Lance croaked out.

 

“How are you?”

 

“Good.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

It was silent for a few moments after that, and Lance could feel his palms getting sweaty. _I promised Pidge I would do it. Come on, stop being a fucking coward. Just tell him that he’s really cute and has nice eyes and his hands look really soft and—_

“I… uh… baked this for you,” Keith stammered as he set the box on the counter. “It’s a double chocolate cake, extra icing.” He gave a small, hesitant smile. “I know how much you like sweets.”

 

Lance swallowed thickly. “Oh, thanks…” He opened the box, and he swore his heart fell out of his chest right there.

 

In white icing, in the center of the cake, were the words, ‘ _I’m sorry’_.

 

“I… I don’t know what I did or if I even _did_ anything,” Keith started, “I just know that I—”

 

“I love you,” Lance whispered.

 

Keith’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “… What?”

 

Lance pursed his lips. His heart was racing a mile a minute and he knew his face must have been a million shades of red. “I… I love you,” he repeated. When there was no response, he continued. “I just… I love you. And… I was a coward. I was afraid of what you would say and what you would think of me. I was afraid that you would hate me or think I was gross and I… I guess that was really stupid of me because of course you’re not that kind of person. Pidge kept trying to tell me that, and I should really probably start listening to them more, but I was too stubborn and afraid. Anyways, yeah, I really like you a whole lot and your stupid face and your stupid mullet. And your stupidly cute butt and wow I should really stop talking I—”

 

Lance never got a chance to finish his speech, because at that moment, Keith leaned over the counter, grabbed the sides of Lance’s face, and kissed him. It didn’t even fully register to Lance that it was happening. He sort of stood there in shock while Keith’s lips moved against his frozen mouth. Keith nearly pulled away when he realized Lance wasn’t responding, but Lance snapped out of his trance, and pressed more firmly against Keith’s mouth, relishing in the startled noise Keith made.

 

It was… Oh God, it was perfect. It was everything and more and Lance felt so high on adrenaline and warmth. His senses were going haywire and he could feel the way Keith’s hands were shaking as they raked through his hair. He could smell the tacky cologne Keith wore and the minty toothpaste he used. He could smell the sugar and bitter coffee from the bakery. It was all so intoxicating.

 

Lance moaned when Keith bit at his bottom lip, but had to pull away to breathe. Lance could feel his entire body shaking with nerves. _Did that really just happen?_ Lance slowly looked at Keith, who’s entire face was absolutely _glowing_. _He’s beautiful._ “You’re beautiful,” Lance croaked out.

 

Keith gaped at him and coughed, his face getting even redder than it already was. “Y-you’re… the beautiful… one,” he muttered.

 

Lance perked up. “Wait… so does that mean…” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Does this mean we’re gay?”

 

Keith looked at him for a moment and then barked out a raspy laugh. He brought his shaking hands to his mouth, covering it up. “Yeah…” he said lowly. “I guess it does.” He raked his hand through his hair and gave a small smile. “I love you too, by the way… Just thought I’d say that, in case it wasn’t obvious.”

 

Lance grinned. “You love me,” he said.

 

Keith huffed. “Yeah, I do…” He crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“You _loooove_ me…” Lance sang giddily.

 

Keith rolled his eyes, but was blushing nonetheless. “Stop saying it like that…”

 

“You love me! And I love you!” Lance was grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Stop it, moron! You’re so embarrassing!” Keith was _really_ red.

 

“Kiss me, Keith!”

 

“No!”

 

“Kiss me!”

 

“Leave me alone, stupid! Idiot! Don’t climb over the counter! Stop!”

 

From the kitchen, Pidge and Hunk were listening in, both of them grinning.

 

“It’s about time,” Pidge said happily.

 

“You’re telling me,” Hunk groaned. “You wouldn’t believe how many texts I got from him talking about Keith’s butt. It was getting kind of excessive.”

 

Pidge snorted. “He’s such an idiot.”

 

“Yeah. But now he’s an idiot… in love.”

 

Pidge smiled gently.

 

“I’m glad things worked out, though,” Hunk said.

 

Pidge hummed and listening as the two boys outside laughed. They could hear Lance whispering something to Keith, who yelled at Lance, who only laughed some more. They were happy. “Yeah, me too.”

 

\--

 

_(Months Later)_

 

“Delivery!” Hunk sang as he walked into Altean Delights. “For a Mister Keith, aka Lance’s ‘Super Elite Booty Babe’.” He set the blue bag on the counter and grinned at Keith’s angry but blushing face.

 

“How much did he pay you to say that?” Shiro asked from behind Keith.

 

“Ten bucks. And half of whatever Keith brings in next.” Hunk grinned and backed away. “Anyway, I gotta go. See ya!”

 

“Bye, Hunk!” Allura chimed from beside Keith.

 

Keith glared down at the bag. “That idiot,” he grumbled. He could feel Allura and Shiro’s eyes on him as he opened the bag. “Oh, he made lemon bars.” Immediately, he snatched away the bag from Allura and Shiro’s prying hands. “Hey. No. Mine.”

 

Allura pouted. “You’re always so greedy when it comes to Lance’s food.”

 

Shiro grinned. “Yeah, better not let Lance know you actually _love_ his cooking. He’ll hold it over you forever.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.” He took a lemon square and bit into it, groaning at the taste. “God, the things that man does to me…” he mumbled with a dazed look in his eyes.

 

“Okay, none of that now,” Shiro coughed. “Not in front of the public.”

 

Keith stuck out his tongue. “You’re just jealous because I’m the one who gets to eat Lance’s food all the time.”

 

“I will not confirm nor deny that.”

 

Keith snorted and looked back into the bag, where a folded up piece of paper lay. He grinned and opened it up, smiling even wider when he read it.

 

_Babe,_

_Enjoy these lemon squares. They were made with love and lemons by yours truly._

_Don’t forget about tonight. My place. 7 o’clock. ;) It’ll be the best 10 th date you’ve ever been on. Trust me. _

 

_Love you,_

_Lance_

Keith grinned against the paper, knowing full well that Shiro and Allura were probably looking at him smiling like a lovesick fool (which, okay, he kind of was). But really, he didn’t care.

 

Because he and Lance were going to hang out that night. And they would see each other the next morning, tangled up in each other’s warmth. They would kiss and have breakfast together and walk to work together, parting ways until one of them eventually would cave in and visit the other. They would spend their lunch breaks together, huddled in the back of one of their cafés, smiling and giggling like hormonal teenagers.

 

They would spend nights together, holding each other, falling asleep together. They would spend holidays together. Keith would eventually meet Lance’s family and immediately be adopted as a member. They would spend as much time together as they could every day, whispering to themselves. _I love you. I love you too._

 

Keith knew that this would all happen. So he did what he did best.

 

He wrote a note.

 

_Lance,_

_As if I could forget. Thanks for the lemon squares; they’re okay I guess._

_I’ll see you tonight._

_I love you so much._

_Love,_

_Keith_

_(aka your Super Elite Booty Babe)_

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is amedala!!! come say hi!!


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